


Shaving and Other Intimacies

by comic_books_and_bars, Ptarantula



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Biting, Blow Jobs, Cabin Fic, Canon Asexual Character, Cunnilingus, M/M, Oral Sex, Phalloplasty, Scars, Scratching, Shaving, Squirting, Trans!Martin, Vaginal Fingering, ace author, cock biting, demi!Jon, descriptions of healed genital reconstructive surgery scars, first time sex is always a bit awkward, the boys being dorks, they misunderstand each other a few times, trans author, trans!Jon, transgender character, use of the Beholding during sexy times, use of the word ‘cunt’ for transmale genitalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comic_books_and_bars/pseuds/comic_books_and_bars, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ptarantula/pseuds/Ptarantula
Summary: Martin and Jon turn personal hygiene into a sexy collaborative activity.***“Are you sure you want to? I can manage on my own if-““No,” Jon cut him off before he could sayuncomfortableor some other word thatwouldmake him uncomfortable and then where would they be? “No, I want to.”“Well,” Martin shifted a little from foot to foot. “Okay.”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 18
Kudos: 137





	Shaving and Other Intimacies

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags!
> 
> So, before we begin... the descriptions of surgery results and sensation are based on my (comic_books_and_bars) own personal experience. Martin is somewhere less than a year post op. Timelines are confusing, but he had the surgery sometime during the latter part of Jon’s coma.
> 
> We DO NOT describe the surgery in any graphic detail. We do describe the lovely scars left behind and Jon's appreciation of them.

“Are you sure you want to? I can manage on my own if-“

“No,” Jon cut him off before he could say ‘ _uncomfortable’_ or some other word that _would_ make him uncomfortable, and then where would they be?

“No, I want to.”

“Well,” Martin shifted a little from foot to foot. “Okay.”

———

He had been shaving his face in the bathroom mirror while Jon sat on the edge of the tub watching with that heady mix of adoration and nervousness that Martin didn’t know how to deal with after spending so much time alone. 

Jon had said, “I should probably shave too.”

And Martin had said, as if it were the next logical thing to say:

“Mm. I need to shave my dick soon.”

Jon nodded along in agreement, too caught up in the domesticity of it all to fully process what Martin had said. He opened his mouth to enquire about something or other when his brain skidded to a screeching halt. 

“P-pardon?” his voice cracked as it pitched up in confusion. _No way_ he’d heard that correctly.

Martin was now beet red and staring at himself in the mirror which was preferable to looking around at Jon, “ehm... my... sometimes I have to shave there. I... shouldn’t have mentioned it?”

Jon was trans, he knew how testosterone could cause some men to have an uptick in hair growth. He’d been on T for the last decade at least and had never once heard of others growing hair... there. Surely he misheard and Martin meant he needed to trim up his pubic region. Martin had a delightfully hairy chest and stomach, so he could rightfully assume that he was partially furry down there as well. That would make more logical sense.

“Oh, no- that's fine. It happens. I have to clean up... that area as well sometimes. Usually I use an electric trimmer though...” he faltered for a moment “do you prefer... the clean shaven feel?”

“Not generally,” he finally looked over and laughed sheepishly with a glance down at his body - which they both knew was anything but clean shaven.

“But it grows quite a lot along the. Uhm. Length of it? It _did_ used to be an arm and my electrologist was a bit shite to be honest and-“ he stopped, realizing he was babbling abruptly. “And well. I just shave it sometimes. Really shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

Jon had been getting progressively more tense as their conversation progressed and his confusion grew to insane proportions just before it hit him. His body relaxed all in an instant as the realization of what Martin was implying finally settled in, “you have a cock!” 

The way he said it came across as excited and disbelieving all at once. His face lit up with delight at having solved the riddle of Martin’s nebulous genital shaving habits.

Martin blinked at him - blank as fuck.

“Yeah?”

Jon could feel his face heating up with embarrassment, did he get it wrong? No, not possible. The comment about the arm and the shite electrologist. It all pointed to Martin having a dick.

“Ah... I mean you have a...” he made a limp little fap-fap motion and instantly regretted his entire life. What was he, 10?!

Martin cracked a smile and then fell into the kind of laughter that made Jon promptly stop regretting everything and instead made him fight not to laugh as well. The whole conversation was ridiculous.

“I-I do have a- uhm-,” Martin mimicked the fap-fap motion in a way that just skated by as solidarity rather than mockery.

Jon lost the fight as soon as it started. He hid his face in his hands and shook himself, his embarrassment and relief overstimulating. “Oh god- I’m so sorry! That sounds so childish!” He was still laughing so hard that it was a fight to break the silent tremors that rocked through him.

He peeked through his fingers to take in Martin’s expression, his eyes wet with tears and shining with something resembling pure happiness.

Martin moved closer and knelt on the bathmat in front of Jon, tugging his hands into his own and matching his gaze.

“You don’t have to be sorry - I’m the one who just-“ he could barely get it out for laughing. “Said my cock needed a shave, apropos of nothing!”

Jon leaned forwards, pressing his forehead to Martin’s and gave an audible chuckle. 

“It’s fine, really. I just... you know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard about a cock needing a shave.” 

He ducked his head a bit further to nuzzle against Martin’s cheek. 

“Learn something new every day!”

Martin pouted, “lots of guys need to - they just _don’t_.”

The way he said ‘guys’ left no doubt that he meant cis guys specifically and he, too, had never heard of a trans man having to shave his undercarriage post-op.

“It’s what happens when you don’t pay for good electrolysis,” he intoned like he was telling a campfire ghost story to scare Jon.

Jon gave a suitably theatrical gasp of shock, “oh no!”

Theatrics aside, he was cataloguing this information away for... the highly unlikely event that he would get his plumbing rearranged. Personally, he felt that a cock would surely get in the way on a daily basis and had grown rather content with his more self-contained configuration. 

Martin’s cock, on the other hand... he wondered if Martin would let him see it. He bet that it suited the larger man perfectly. Was it thick? Did it radiate warmth? Was it soft? Did the hairs growing on it resemble the soft ones of Martin’s belly?

“May I see it,” he found himself asking, the words escaping his mouth completely without permission or filtration.

Martin wished he’d stifled the little gasp that escaped him then - it sounded so much more scandalized than he’d have liked. He wasn’t scandalized, just extremely pleasantly surprised.

He over-corrected, jumping to say, “yes!”

Jon’s expression shifted from mild horror at his own deeply personal intrusion upon Martin’s privacy to barely contained excitement. He was in love with this man and Martin was trusting him with something so private. It took all he had not to vibrate out of his own skin at the possibility.

“Really? Only if you’re comfortable with it,” he pressed a kiss to Martin’s cheek to hide his pleased grin.

Martin tried to tamp down the boyish grin on his face with little success. He turned and pressed a gentle kiss to Jon’s lips.

“I’d like to show you,” he murmured it shyly into their kiss. “Maybe you can help me shave?”

“I-“ Jon stopped and thought about it seriously for a moment. The idea of Martin in his hand, vulnerable, as Jon ran a razor over _his cock_ was enough to set his body ablaze with want.

“Yes, please.” The earnestness in his own voice surprised even himself. “I would love that.”

“Are you sure you want to? I can manage on my own if-“

“No,” Jon cut him off before he could say _‘uncomfortable_ ’ or some other word that _would_ make him uncomfortable and then where would they be? 

“No, I want to.”

“Well,” Martin shifted a little from foot to foot. “Okay.”

———

It had been a bit of a joke, but Jon had taken it seriously enough that they were now preparing to do just as Martin had suggested.

Jon, still sitting on the edge of the tub, watched Martin with an expression one part curiosity and one part hunger.

“May I?” 

He lifted a hand and reached out, hovering it a good 6 inches away from the waistband of Martin’s sweatpants. Now that they were here, Jon needed to know. He was practically gagging for it. Which, given the rarity he felt such emotions, was a pleasant treat in and of itself.

Martin pulled Jon’s hands forward and gently placed them on the waistband. Before he let him go, he leveled him with a serious look.

“It isn’t... you know, it wasn’t that long ago so there’s still some scarring and it doesn’t look like a-“

Jon smiled softly, “Martin. It’s okay. I’ve done enough research not to be surprised.”

Then, even softer, “may I?”

At Martin’s nod, Jon hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled downward.

Martin’s pants were a bit to deal with - the sort with separate pockets for the genitalia. But he was more than happy to help and, soon, Jon was watching his thick, soft cock roll free of the fabric.

The cock was fat and a bit long with a beautifully sculpted head dotted along the base with tiny purplish marks that had once been stitches. It looked impossibly soft to touch, even covered in sparse hair as it was.

Jon could detect a faint musk from the slit at his tip and he unconsciously licked his lips.

Martin squirmed under Jon’s gaze, legs unconsciously clenching shut a fraction as he shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. This had the unintended effect of making his cock wiggle from side to side as he did.

Jon’s eyes greedily drank in the sight of him. His fingers, now resting on his own knees, twitched with the barely controlled desire to hold Martin in his hands. He wanted to map every glorious centimetre and commit it and this moment into his memories forever.

Martin didn’t notice Jon’s obvious desire. He was too busy looking anywhere but at Jon as he tried to tamp down his excitement. He certainly wouldn’t become erect, but his heart might explode - so there was that.

His cock _was_ still healing up. He’d only had the surgery during Jon’s coma - it had been a bit of a rash decision, but he could afford to jump the line suddenly and see a great surgeon. Well, Peter Lukas could afford to jump the line...

Martin had made many deals with that particular devil.

His cock was in a funny stage of healing where there were no longer stitches or scabs, but one could still see the marks left by them. 

The tip had evened out - pinched-in crown smoothing into a gentle swell before it tucked in to the very top where a little ring of purple-red marked the dip of his urethra. The base hid a similar ring under a neat patch of pubic hair and - yes - there was a bit more hair on the shaft than one might otherwise expect. They were sparse and soft, gently curled hairs - _arm hairs_ , Jon realized.

“May I-“ 

The words stuck in Jon’s mouth, suddenly gone dry with apprehension. He swallowed a few times to try and unstick his tongue before trying again, “Martin.” He reached a hand out to gently grasp at Martin’s own, a tiny request for his attention.

He tore his adoring- thirsty- gaze away from the beautifully sculpted specimen to look upwards and into Martin’s eyes.

Martin looked down suddenly and their eyes met. He swallowed audibly before gently shifting his hand inward to brush Jon’s knuckles against the impossibly soft skin of his cock.

The tiny whine that escaped Jon’s throat was nothing short of strangled need. Now given permission, he used both hands to reverently lift the delightfully heavy member for his close inspection. 

It was soft and pliant in the best possible way and flopped adorably in his hand. His left hand curled about the base, pushing back the prettyish bit of wilderness that was Martin’s fluffy, loosely curled pubic hair. The scar around the base of his cock was a wide purplish band almost like a cock ring tattooed onto creamy white skin. Using his free hand he traced the line with one finger, feeling the slight bumps and grooves where the once raised scar had been stretched out by gravity.

Martin sighed softly as Jon’s whine shuddered through them both and left him feeling too warm despite his bare, goosebumped skin.

He chewed at his bottom lip a little as Jon handled him, inspecting his cock thoroughly. Whenever he touched or prodded a place with sensation, Martin stifled little moans and whines of his own.

When Jon traced the light scar around the base, he moaned outright.

Jon’s fingers stilled on the place which had caused Martin to vocalise so deliciously and gingerly stroked it again, eyes now trained on his lover’s face. He _needed to see_.

Martin squeaked a little and, quite without meaning to, rolled his hips forward.

With a pleased little noise in the back of his throat, Jon moved on to the next area. He used his right hand to lift the soft phallus, exposing the underside and another neat line of scarring from base to tip. He removed his left hand from the base and traced the line slowly upwards until he reached the dip just before the swell of Martin’s glans. Cradling the head against his fingers, he ran his thumb over the soft ridge before circling down to press against the tip, now threatening to drip a singular bead of slick to the tiled floor.

Martin was now watching Jon avidly and he’d never dream of looking away. The little noise he made sparked an echo in Martin. Jon had him in hand and Jon _liked_ it. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought he was dreaming.

Whenever Jon skated over a bit with sensation, Martin made tiny sounds just in the back of his throat. He tried to keep still so Jon could do as he pleased. The underside was the most sensitive, though, and he ended up giving in to a ruinous moan.

His moan vibrated deep and Jon could feel it through the cock in his hands. His own sex quivered with the sensation as Martin’s pleasure seemed to run the path between Jon’s hand and his sopping wet cunt.

He whined in response, wrapping his hand more fully around Martin’s cock and squeezing just under the head. Removing his thumb from the tip revealed a thin stretchy thread of slick trailing between his digit and Martin’s perfect cockhead.

Martin closed his eyes, unable to process Jon marvelling at the thread of slick connecting them. He couldn’t keep from looking long, though, and he moaned deeply at the sight hitting him all over again.

And Jon _did_ marvel at the slick on his thumb - impossibly stretchy and smelling faintly of musk.

In one fluid motion Jon dipped his head down and licked the slick from his thumb. He moaned lewdly at the decadent, musky flavour. 

“Martin... you taste- mmh,” he didn’t have the words to describe it after only one taste. He needed another.

He shifted forward again and laved his tongue across the glistening tip. His lips soon followed, closing around the head perfectly.

Martin wanted to say something but had no words to articulate his feelings. His ability to speak only deteriorated as Jon dipped forward and pulled him into the warm, wet heat of his mouth.

“Ohhh... Jon,” he breathed, agonized with pleasure and warmth.

Jon suckled the tip, his tongue flicking the slit and urging the remainder to spill into his willing mouth. He couldn’t have imagined how perfectly Martin would fit in his mouth, how soft his skin would feel against his tongue-

Jon gave an alarmed squeak and immediately removed his mouth as if he’d been shocked, tongue stuck out between his parted lips. He looked embarrassed, upset, and disgusted all at once. He proceeded to pull his tongue back into his mouth and make a series of disgruntled noises as he was no doubt scrubbing the roof of his mouth with it.

Martin was taken aback at first, then his brain started to catch up. Not fast enough, though, as the first thought he had was that it must taste bad.

“That bad?”

Jon immediately stopped his vigorous cleaning to glance up, “what?”

He didn’t understand what Martin was asking. Of course a hair in his mouth was that bad. Soft though it may be, with his texture processing issues, it might as well have been a pipe cleaner.

Martin looked horribly embarrassed when Jon looked up and he seemed to be moving to shy away from him.

“Do you want some water?”

Jon’s grip around his cock tightened involuntarily, preventing his escape. 

“No!”

It came out sharper than he’d intended and he backtracked a bit. 

“It’s fine- really! It was just a hair, it’s not-“ he was panicking. Martin had no reason not to take his drastic reaction as a rejection. Once again, his shite processing issues were going to hurt someone he loved and he didn’t even realise it until it was too late.

“I’m sorry...”

Martin squeaked softly when his cock was squeezed and stopped moving. He listened and then ran a hand through Jon’s hair.

“Hey,” he spoke so softly that it actually made Jon feel worse somehow. “It’s okay.”

“Honestly, I’m glad it was just a hair,” the warmth returning to his voice and near laughter eased some of Jon’s anxiety. This was okay. It wasn’t serious. Nothing to handle with kid gloves. Just a normal, awkward sex thing. “But if you want to stop at any point, we can, okay?”

“I don’t want to stop,” he gave his best pout. He averted his eyes and stared at the delicious, perfectly shaped sex in his hands. He squeezed and kneaded it absentmindedly, it was an amazing stem toy. “You tasted so _good_...”

He could feel the soft hairs dusted along the shaft and, from how close he sat, he could also begin to see light freckles, like stars, scattered across the pale flesh.

Martin sighed prettily as his cock was petted and kneaded. It felt lovely to be held so intimately and, were he honest, he didn’t really want to stop either.

“Mm,” he offered by way of segue. “Maybe I _should_ shave, then?”

“Ah, yes we _were_ discussing that weren’t we...” he seemed thoughtful for a moment or two before a broad grin crossed his face “You were going to let me do it.” 

His tone was sly and flirtatious.

Martin flushed down to the neckline of his jumper.

“If you- if you want to-,” he stammered.

“I do.” His voice was determined and his hands shifted from kneading to stroking. “Shower? Bed?”

He paused and leaned forward to kiss the tip of Martin’s cock, full lips suckling the slit as he pondered his next words. “Shower... then bed?”

Martin’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as Jon sucked at his tip. It wasn’t terribly sensitive there, but what he could feel was magnificent. The only answer he managed was a vague little, “mmhm.”

Jon was pleased with this response and stood, begrudgingly releasing Martin’s cock, ensuring that it was resting comfortably before removing his hand to busy himself with the shower.

“Get cleaned off? I’ll... prep the bed,” he grabbed an armful of clean towels and bustled into the bedroom. Returning a moment later, he levelled Martin with a salacious smirk. “Oh, and Martin... do be thorough, won't you?”

Martin stared after him even after Jon had disappeared back into the bedroom with an armful of towels and supplies that seemed to be a bit much if he were asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said, softly, to the empty room.

“ _What?_ ”

When an answer was not forthcoming from the decidedly rustic sink nor the outdated bathmat, he busied himself with showering off.

_Thorough?_

_How thorough was thorough?_

Did he need to wash inside? What with? Should he ask for clarification? What if he weren’t thorough enough and Jon was disgusted with him?

Just to be safe, he washed every part of himself. Twice. He skipped trying to wash internally. He wasn’t even sure _how_ he might manage that, to be honest - and then emerged cleaner than he’d been in ages. Probably.

Wrapping up in his towel after drying, he shuffled into the bedroom.

Jon had the bed made and two towels were laid out in the centre near the headboard while a small stack of them rested on the side table. A stockpot was half filled with water - also sat upon towels. Jon was nervously pacing about, lathering up shaving cream with a brush and bowl from a set they had purchased just the day before.

He visibly calmed himself when he noticed Martin.

“All clean then,” he asked with a quizzical tilt of the head.

Martin took in the scene before him, looking at the freshly mixed shaving cream and razor. He hung back in the doorway a little.

“I didn’t know exactly how thorough you wanted me… but, yes, I’m clean.”

Jon gave him an appreciative once over.

“We’ll just have to see, now won’t we?” 

He gestured with the cream covered brush for Martin to climb onto the bed. He didn't, however, come any closer as he was content to watch from a safe distance. 

“When you’re ready...?”

Martin walked over to the bed and set his towel aside. Now completely nude, Jon was able to see all of him. His arm was well-healed, but was too new to have filled out any. The donor site dipped in suddenly and left a large part of his arm slimmer and more purple than the rest.

To be quite truthful, Martin was more self-conscious about this than showing Jon his cock and he let his arm trail a little out of view. The large patch of scar tissue on his leg was almost entirely back to normal with just a little bit of discoloration, so he didn’t mind if Jon saw that instead.

He stood before Jon, “hi.”

Jon was left breathless, in awe at the vision before him. He knew Martin was handsome, he knew he was strong, but he didn’t know just how much more of the man he had been missing up to that point. He set the cup and brush down as he knew that he would need two hands to fully appreciate the gift he was being given.

“Hi,” he answered in kind. He reached out his hands towards Martin’s left wrist, going slow enough that the question was understood without needing to be spoken. Martin didn’t pull away, allowing Jon to approach and touch as he liked. He stopped trailing his arm and held both out for Jon’s inspection. It wasn’t as if he was able to hide anything, not naked as he was.

Jon took his left arm with both hands and brought it up so he could kiss it. The skin of the donor site was taught and smooth. He rubbed his cheek against it with a small sigh of pleasure.

“It’s so soft.”

He proceeded to kiss along the seam lining the underside of his forearm from end to end, stopping at a dip just below the wrist. Without a second thought he opened his mouth and gently latched on, feeling the soft skin and firm resistance of the muscle and radius underneath. It fit perfectly in his mouth and he moaned his pleasure.

Martin laughed, a low and surprised sound. He loved Jon very much in that moment. He loved Jon very much in every moment, but this one especially. He flexed just a little under Jon’s teeth to see what would happen.

Jon unlatched and surged up to capture Martin’s lips in a bruising kiss. 

“Martin,” he murmured fervently. “I-”

He gave a strangled whine. “On the bed. Please.”

Martin just grinned into the kiss and nipped Jon’s lips roughly before climbing onto the towels and stretching out. Jon drew in a deep breath, steadying his nerves. He would need a clear head to do this properly.

He busied himself gathering the towels and shaving tools close to where Martin sat. After double and triple checking that he had everything, he joined Martin on the bed. He crawled up to kneel between beautifully thick and widespread legs.

“Comfortable?”

Martin nodded and closed his eyes. His hands came to rest on the peak of his belly.

“You?”

“Yes, I dare say I am,” he huffed out a laugh. “You’re amazingly handsome, you know that right?”

He took up the shaving brush with one hand, gathering a generous amount of cream on the soft bristles. Using his free hand to carefully lift Martin’s soft cock, he painted the top in a wide stripe from base to tip.

Martin flushed and, nude, Jon could see it spread down his chest under all the freckles. He started to disagree, but his protests died as Jon touched him and swept the brush over.

It tickled a little - in a way that felt far off, but made his toes curl nonetheless.

“Absolutely beautiful, radiant.” He gave the cock in his hand a quick squeeze while he switched the brush for the razor. 

“Can you stay still for me?” He tapped the top of the razor to the inside of Martin’s thigh. “I don’t want to cut your delicious cock.”

Martin gasped softly when Jon tapped him and coloured more when he called his cock delicious. He wanted to argue, but ended up unable to speak. He just nodded.

Jon wielded the razor with aplomb. He pressed the cool metal just under the scar at the base of his cock and slid it down in one smooth motion. He touched the freshly shaven line with the side of his pinkie, “perfect.”

Martin had to struggle to keep perfectly still as the razor scraped over his sensitive cock. He felt the drag of it more acutely than the far gentler touch of fingers.

Even though he managed to stay put, he moaned louder than he’d known he could.

“Oh, Martin. You’re making such sexy noises for me.” He swished the razor in the basin to clean it before moving it to the right of the newly hair-free patch. 

“Tell me what you’re feeling.” His voice was deep with need, but he was careful not to use the Beholding to get his answers.

Martin had pressed the back of his left arm against his mouth to stifle the sounds, but relented at Jon’s request.

He watched as Jon positioned the blade, gathering his thoughts quickly.

“I- the scrape is really good. It’s like... nails running down it, but smoother and-and a bit more bite...,” he sighed heavily and made eye contact.

“And... vulnerable. Vulnerable, but I know I’ll be okay - because it’s _you_?”

Jon’s heart skipped a beat and warmth pooled in his stomach. “You’re so-“ he broke off to swallow back a rush of emotions. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

He held eye contact even as he once again slid the razor down the length, clearing another section as cleanly as the first.

Jon catalogued that spot away as one to explore later and continued the task at hand. He took his time, thoroughly clearing the top and sides of his lover’s cock. Once satisfied, he dipped a washcloth into the basin. He wrung out any excess water before using it to wipe him down, admiring the hair free skin.

“I’m going to do the underside now, can you continue to be good for me,” he asked as he lifted Martin’s cock to expose the underside and his delightfully furry scrotum.

Martin whined.

“I’ll... try?”

His breath was coming in starts and gasps as he tried not to rock into the wonderful, if dangerous, feeling.

“If I _can’t_... what’ll we do?”

“I suppose I’ll simply have to tie you down,” he threatened with a wave of the razor. “It won’t come to that, though. Now, will it?”

As if to prove his point he took up the shaving brush and smeared cream liberally just above his balls and up to just under the head, where he kept a firm grip, holding the cock aloft.

Martin kept from squirming, but looked absolutely fucked out for his troubles. His eyes were dilated and hazy, but locked on Jon and the things he was doing to his prick.

A thick drop of slick mixed into the cream and stretched after the brush when Jon pulled it away. Watching, Martin gave Jon a funny little smile.

“You could... _oh_ ,” he took a deep breath. “You could _command_ me, if it comes to that. For-for my own good?”

Jon let out a puff of air through his nose. 

“That _is_ an idea... but perhaps that can be your reward for good behaviour...”

He took up the razor and placed it a hair's width from the skin, lining it up centre to the scar. “Would you like that? I could order you to suck my cock or lick my cunt...” 

He pressed the razor against skin finally, dragging it up steadily, “but only if you’re _very good_.”

Martin balled his hands up in the towel’s edges, squeezing as a way to process the pleasure better. The important thing was that he didn’t wiggle where he sat, legs trembling and out of breath.

“I’d,” his voice was low and sultry in a way he hadn’t realized that it could be. But then, he’d never thought Jon would be so good at this either. “I’d like that.”

At that moment Jon would have given Martin anything if he asked for it. He was enchanted and power-drunk. “Then, that’s what you’ll have.”

He moved to the next section and then the next, efficiently but slowly enough to draw out Martin’s pleasure. Soon enough the shaft was complete and after wiping away any remaining shaving cream he wrapped his hand snuggly just under the glans.

“Left the tricky bit for last,” he commented as he ran a thumb over the tip, smearing slick in slow circles. Martin nodded weakly, as if words still had meaning in the pleasure-drunk haze he now occupied.

The feeling of Jon’s finger smearing his slick meant everything, though, and he keened openly so that Jon would know it.

Jon dipped his head down and suckled the tip, greedily swallowing the few drops of slick. It would be a waste for him not to enjoy them.

Snack had, he swirled the brush around the head creating a lewd mimicry of whipped topping. 

“Pretty as an ice cream sundae,” he placed the razor perpendicular to the head and carefully glided it along the curvature. “Pity I have to mess it up.”

Martin chewed his lip weakly against the sweet little shuddering sound that escaped him when Jon’s tongue brushed him. His tip didn’t have all its sensation yet, but it had enough.

Followed immediately by the brush, his hips shivered despite his best efforts - trembling, but not giving in to the need to thrust mindlessly up.

He would be good. He’d be a damn saint if it would get Jon to do more amazing things to him. He couldn’t even think about Jon commanding him or he’d ruin it all by bucking into the razor like an idiot.

“Please,” he whispered as Jon teased him with the razor’s edge and his equally sharp tongue.

“Patience, my love,” he chided. “Just your pretty little tip left. You can wait a little longer can’t you, handsome.”

He used short swipes to shave the slightly puckered area around the urethral opening. The way the skin had been stitched made it the tiniest bit bumpy.

“You’re going to- _ohhh_ ,” he sighed sweetly as parts usually insensate seemed to be triggered by the delicate tickle and burning swipe of the razor.

“Going to _ruin_ me,” he finally huffed out.

“It’s hardly ruining if we both enjoy the outcome,” he chuckled and finally put the razor aside. He fished the washcloth from the water and once more cleaned him up. 

He slid from the bed after he was satisfied with his work and took the pot and supplies with him into the bathroom. 

“Don’t move until I tell you to,” he warned as he walked away.

Martin smiled sweetly after him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good boy.”

Jon was absent for a few minutes and the sound of the shower running gave a pretty good idea of why.

Martin sighed and laid back on the pillows, cuddling into them. He was amused to say the least. He kind of wanted to bury his nose in Jon’s groin when he was sweaty… so him washing up seemed a little silly.

He hid behind his own arm in embarrassment.

He didn’t lift it until Jon came back.

Jon entered the room, hovering in the doorway damp and completely nude.

“ **Have you been a good boy?** ” he intoned, voice layered with power.

Martin’s mouth hung open a little as he thought it over.

“ _Yes_ ,” he decided. He had stayed still, hadn’t touched himself, and had not gotten himself cut during shaving.

Good? Check.

Boy? Check.

Jon seemed satisfied with his answer and chose to show it by crossing the room and alighting upon the bed between Martin’s legs.

“Good, I’m very pleased.”

With way more swagger than he’d ever thought possible, he leaned forward and pressed his shower-warmed body flush against the larger man, capturing his lips in a steamy kiss. Martin sighed sweetly, opening instantly to the kiss. His hands came to rest gently on Jon’s hips - not hard enough to be possessive or cocky. Just, gently.

Jon enjoyed the feel of large hands on his small hips. He pulled back after only a moment more and gazed down, mouth hung open a fraction and tongue just barely visible over kiss swollen lips.

“You taste like tea,” he accused fondly.

Martin’s nose wrinkled at that and he broke out into a breath-taking smile. His eyes were warm and fond as he looked into Jon’s own.

“Well,” he murmured. “You taste like... like _knowing_.”

Jon laughed heartily, tipping back to sit on his knees. “That’s fair, I suppose.”

He sat comfortably, just observing the man in front of him for a few seconds before he spoke again. “I think I’d like to wreck you, if you’re amenable.”

His voice was calm as if he were asking Martin to accompany him for a walk or some other equally innocent act. Martin made an aggrieved sound in the back of his throat that was difficult to quantify.

“Yes,” he chirped. “Yes. Yes. Yes. I am. I am so _very_ amenable.”

“Good boy,” Jon praised him with a pat on the thigh. “ **What would you like as your reward for being such a good boy?** ”

He trailed his hand inward towards Martin’s now sinfully smooth cock and wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing ever so slightly.

The compulsion seemed to wash over Martin, lowering his inhibitions and making him pliant in the face of Jon’s praise where usually he might sass or argue in defence.

Martin blinked owlishly before saying, quite simply, “ _you_.”

Jon loved this man so much he physically ached at the simple statement. His body shuddered under a tidal wave of emotion which he did not have the mental capacity to process at that exact moment, so he deflected. 

“Too vague. **Try again. Be specific. What do you want me to do to you?** ”

Martin’s gears were turning. That was clear from how his brow knit up in confusion.

“ _You. I want you to make me yours. Command me. Let me make you cum_.”

“Well since you asked so nicely…,” he could do nothing but relent in the face of such honesty.

He snagged a few pillows from the head of the bed propping himself up opposite Martin. Jon had so little body fat that when he spread his legs just so his labia parted exposing his slick cunt.

“ **Come claim your reward. Worship my cunt like the good boy that you are.** ” 

His voice was husky with lust and his face flushed with heat, embarrassed and aroused. But Martin just licked his lips ravenously, eyeing Jon’s gorgeous cunt with obvious hunger. He crawled forward with purpose, eyes fixed intently on his prize.

With permission to take as he pleased, he scooped up Jon’s slender hips in his large hands and hoisted him up so that he could suck his swollen cock between his lips.

He visibly melted at finally being allowed to taste Jon.

A needy mewl erupted from Jon and he scrabbled for anything to steady himself. He hooked his legs over Martin’s broad shoulders and carded his fingers through soft ginger curls. 

“Mah-,“ he moaned unselfconsciously as his brain stuttered to a halt. He had never felt anything quite like whatever it was Martin was doing to his poor cock. Martin happily held him in place so that he could flick his tongue from slit to cock and back again before nuzzling right into Jon’s hole. He was _good_ and he was going to make Jon cum _so many_ times.

Jon had no defence in the face of his lover’s determination and skill. He rarely touched himself and couldn’t recall the last time anyone else had touched him in that way.

So, his first orgasm overtook him with no warning. He arched suddenly, screaming in shock as slick dripped from his spasming cunt and his body shook with the force of the sudden, overwhelming pleasure.

Martin wriggled his tongue deep, deep inside of Jon to taste every last drop. He hummed happily as he pressed as far into him as possible and felt every last twitch let loose on his tongue.

Jon was torn between the urge to seek more and accept anything Martin was willing to give or to push the other man away from his oversensitive sex and recover. Generally, when orgasms were on offer, one was more than enough for him.

He chanced a glance downwards. Martin seemed to be enjoying himself immensely and he supposed it wouldn’t do to take his reward away so soon when he’d been such a good boy.

Martin licked his way up Jon’s sex to suck at his still-thrumming cock. At the same time, he slipped a finger into Jon and crooked it forward to massage his front wall.

Jon’s head snapped back against the pillow in surprise. His mouth hung open in a silent scream as he felt a thrumming pressure building at the base of his spine. He bucked his hips wildly against the large finger buried inside his tight hole. 

“Maaaht-nn! P-please. M-more??? I... mmm- gonna- c-c-caaaan’t,” he was struggling to babble through the fog that settled around his poor sex-addled mind.

Martin obeyed. He flicked his tongue roughly against Jon’s cock as he sucked around it and his finger tapped against his poor swollen prick from the inside of him. He even tried to gently nudge a second finger inside, but Jon was far too tight for that.

It did the trick, though, and Jon came again, his cunt spasming in such a way as to allow the second finger to slip in between contractions. Hot liquid gushed between his legs, coating Martin’s face with musk and slick.

Jon squirmed and whimpered against Martin as it all became a bit much.

Martin pulled free of Jon’s cunt, making sure to gently disengage his fingers. His face was shiny with slick, but he pulled his frazzled boyfriend down into a soft kiss anyway.

Jon clung to him, the only solid point of reference in this new sea of sensation. 

“G-good boy,” he breathed into the kiss. “Best boy.”

His mental faculties were slow to return to him, but he was acutely aware that he was forgetting something very important. Now, if only he could remember what it was.

As Martin kissed him, loving and sloppy, he couldn’t help but to grind his soft cock up against Jon’s thigh. His breath hitched a little as he felt his prick press and squish against Jon’s warm body.

“Jon,” he sounded lost, needy.

Realisation shone in his eyes and his face lit up like the god-damned sun. 

“Martin... your cock!” He was so excited it was honestly adorable.

He pressed his thigh firm against the soft prick, delighting in the wonderful shape of it against him. Martin moaned and rubbed up against him.

“Yes,” he sighed. “My cock.”

Jon extricated himself from Martin’s embrace, already missing the warmth and comfort his lover provided, in favour of kneeling before him.

He took in the view for a few additional seconds, allowing time to collect his calm Dom persona prior to speaking again. “You’ve been a very good boy, Martin. You made me feel so good.”

His eyes were hungry and his mouth watered as he thought carefully about his next words. 

“Do you think... **Have I also been a good boy?** ”

Martin ran his fingers through Jon’s hair, regarding him with careful consideration.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said with intensity as he lifted his cock and tugged Jon’s head toward it. He didn’t need to be told twice and pitched his body forward to lay on his front. He opened his mouth, tongue darting out to lap the tip. 

“Is this my reward?”

Martin smeared his slick over Jon’s lips. It clung to his lower lip and stretched between them as he pulled away and tapped it back again.

“Mmhm,” he smiled wickedly.

Jon groaned and latched onto the tip, swirling his tongue around the soft flesh. The left side of Martin’s cock was mostly insensate, so he focused his effort on a small patch skin on the right underside of the head. He attacked it with small flicks of his tongue.

At the same time, he used his left hand to ghost tiny scratches along the shaft. Jon figured that, if Martin’s reaction to the razor was anything to go by, he’d enjoy that.

If Martin’s reaction was anything to go by, he positively loved it. He squirmed and thrust up into the sensation with abandon.

“Oh,” he sighed. “Oh, Jon, _please_...”

He hummed his pleasure, slackening his jaw to allow Martin further into his mouth. It was the perfect size to be a proper mouthful and the weight was comforting against his tongue. The tip went just far enough back to excite a small fear of choking that only served to rile Jon up more.

He used his right hand to cup Martin’s scrotum, tugging the hairs between his fingers as he kneaded the wrinkled flesh.

Martin squeaked, seizing up as if in pain for a moment before relaxing into the wonderfully sharp tugging. With every little pull, his hips shifted minutely in place and he gave a little sigh or hum. He massaged Jon’s scalp, returning the favour with little tugs at his hair ever so often.

“Mmm,” he moaned low. “Jon you’re _so good_...”

Pleased, Jon snuffled down, burying his nose in Martin’s soft curls sucking and scraping his teeth along delicate skin as he pulled off to take a breath and admire the newly formed red lines from his canines. 

“You’ve got such a good cock, Martin. It feels so perfect in my mouth, it tastes fantastic.” 

He pressed kisses down the shaft, nipping and licking as he made his way. Eventually he ended up at the base and, without a second thought, placed a kiss on the swell of Martin’s furry belly before biting down hard enough to leave a mark but not quite hard enough to bruise.

Martin arched up into the bite just a little, eyes scrunching closed as his mouth fell open in sweet, tortured noises.

“Jon,” he whined. He repeated the name again and again and again as he felt himself coming apart with need.

Jon gave a sadistic chuckle as he admired his handy work. He enjoyed this course of action, nuzzling and nipping until his lips were pressed to pale freckled cock.

“Oh, you like that do you? **Is my good boy also a filthy little pain slut?** ” he growled deep in the back of his throat. He swiped his tongue over a particularly sensitive patch before scraping his teeth along the fat cock. He repeated the action a few times, threatening to bite, but not following through - not yet.

Martin stared down at him with a little pout fixed on his pretty pink lips and a look of confused scandal.

“ _No, I’m a big, clean pain slut,_ ” he huffed, as if Jon should know this. He’d asked him to wash and be thorough about it. Did he think Martin couldn’t obey such a simple order?

Jon snorted his amusement before he bit down and gave a gentle tug at the cock. He sucked the area in his mouth, and he hoped it would leave a mark. Martin had previously lamented how slowly sensations had returned to his genitalia after surgery - now he couldn’t be happier at being able to experience this exact feeling.

The scrape of teeth felt ticklish and buzzy and sweet all at once, but the biting forced pleasure hard through his skin while the tugging went right to the little bundle of nerves at the base of his cock.

Jon worried his teeth a bit harder into the flaccid organ before pulling off, leisurely tonguing the indents left behind. “Your cock is so gorgeous covered with my bite marks. Proof that you’re mine.”

He pulled none too gently on the sac in his right hand and twisted it a fraction, “You’re - god, Martin - you’re simply perfect. So receptive.”

Martin yelped at the biting, but made no secret about loving it.

“I’m... yours,” he whispered, dazed and hot. When Jon twisted his balls, he arched up into it helplessly.

“I’m-I’m yours. You’re mine too?”

“Forever,” he promised.

He stroked nails up and down the length. 

“I always take good care of what belongs to me.” He pinched a bit of glans and tugged the heavy length up by it. 

“See to their every need.” He dipped his head to lick a wet path along the underside.

“ **What do you need, Martin?** ”

He hissed and squirmed under the onslaught of Jon’s nails, making the sweetest sounds the other man had ever heard as he processed tingly pleasure and the warm certainty of forever.

The stripe licked up his underside made him go limp into the pillows and that’s why it took a moment to process the question

Martin’s voice was wet with emotion when he answered.

“ _You, Jon, you... to-to make me- order me- make me cum, please please please..._ ”

Jon groaned, pained by how much he needed that exact same thing. He replaced the fingers holding Martin’s cock aloft with his teeth and chewed for an agonizingly slow moment before letting the cock fall limply from his mouth. “ **Do it. Cum for me. I. Want. To. _See_.**”

His free hand trailed its way down to stroke his own achingly hard cock, slick coating his fingers as he worked the nub in quick circles.

Martin arched impossibly, like a forgotten marionette taken back up in the careful hands of its owner. His body shuddered harder than ever before as every blood vessel and nerve ending hurried to obey.

Despite the dramatic orgasm that shook him apart, the shout he let loose was broken and pathetic - barely above a whine.

It was the best orgasm of his life and he was sniffling by the time it shook loose from the ends of his fingers and toes.

Jon bit his lip to stifle his own cry of pleasure as he brought himself to quick completion, never taking his eyes off Martin’s face. He slumped forward, releasing his vice grip on Martin’s scrotum in favour of using both hands to crawl forward and fold himself into Martin’s lap.

He wrapped his arms about his lover’s neck and kissed away the few errant tears rolling down flushed cheeks.

“You did so good, Martin. You were so perfect for me. I love you,” he nuzzled close as he could “I love you so much.”

Martin sniffled as he fought to catch Jon’s lips with his own, “ _you_ were perfect, Jon. I love you so much...”

Jon was happy to be caught and they spent a lazy few minutes kissing between murmurs of love and other heartfelt promises.

His mind buzzing numbly and postcoital endorphins dissipating, Jon broke off the kiss to bury his face in Martin’s neck suddenly self-conscious. “-mm sorry I chewed your cock... is it ok?”

Martin gently pried him from his neck and kissed his forehead.

“I loved it,” he insisted. “And it’s no worse for it - see?”

He showed Jon his cock, which had only little indentations from the chewing and no horrible wounds.

“If you say so.” He didn’t sound wholly convinced that he hadn’t mortally wounded the penis. He touched it gently and it did feel perfectly fine, but still. “I’ll need to check it over in the morning... just to be sure... check its nerve endings...” 

He winked, flirting, before covering his face in abject embarrassment. So much for trying to be smooth!

Martin kissed the hands covering Jon’s face repeatedly, murmuring between them.

“Think I’d like that...”

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment and let us know what you think. <3
> 
> If you have any questions regarding the surgery, scars, or details we've included feel free to drop me a line on tumblr [@comic-books-and-bars](https://comic-books-and-bars.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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